


back into the fire

by gracethescribbler



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, Caleb Widogast Needs a Hug, Episode: s03e03 His Last Vow, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Mighty Nein as Family, POV Caleb Widogast, Platonic Cuddling, Spoilers for Episode 87, family bathtime, time for some ad feels cuz i was freaking out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21714520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracethescribbler/pseuds/gracethescribbler
Summary: Caleb's friends make everything more bearable. Just barely.
Relationships: Caleb Widogast & Everyone
Comments: 5
Kudos: 188





	back into the fire

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to do some writing y'all. Idk I mean wow.
> 
> Thoughts?

Caleb had taken in most of the discussion in the throne room as if it were a dream. He would remember it all vividly later, again and again, but while it was happening he felt only a cold, distant sort of nausea, a sort of half-there focus that kept his eyes pinned on Ikithon’s face past his own sweat-soaked hair, hyperaware of every tik, every blink, every look on his old teacher’s face.

Caleb didn’t speak. Partially because the conversation was escaping him at every turn until a few sentences after the fact, partially because then Ikithon would look at him again, as he had when they first walked into the room. Caleb had known immediately, although the glance had been fleeting and the expression of surprise almost nonexistent, that he _knew._ After all this time, Ikithon saw through the years Caleb had put on his shoulders and the new coats and new friends and new spells and just seen _Bren._

After they were done talking he had heard nothing Allura said. He was still watching Ikithon, who was standing too close to them, behind Allura, watching with a sort of disinterested patience - a politician’s patience. Caleb felt restless but didn’t move, felt a need to break past his friends and run out of the throne room and never come back, but all he did was run his nails up and down his arm, over the sleeve of his coat, feeling the fabric catch and bunch and rasp against the scars on his forearm.

He didn’t realize they were leaving until he felt Beau touch his shoulder and then he walked with them, although turning his back on the room made him tense all over, his shoulders aching, and he shivered, anticipating a voice in his ears or a stab in the back or fire to burn him up from the inside and leave him gone forever. Which would be ironic, he supposed.

The others seemed to think they were going to be able to leave, but not Caleb. He knew better.

Funny how he still recognized Ikithon’s footsteps, how they rang over Yasha’s steady tread and Nott’s tapping feet. Coming up beside him, and before Caleb could even look over Beau’s shoulder was brushing his, and Yasha loomed up on his other side like a small mountain, fists curled, and Caduceus and Fjord and Nott pressed in behind and before him like shields. Caleb felt both as if they were no protection at all and the strongest one in the world as he looked over at Ikithon, who was smiling slightly, as he used to when Caleb would get a lesson wrong and Ikithon would take him to task, neatly shrinking him down to the size of an ant.

“Impressive business, isn’t it,” Ikithon said, the quietly conversational tone of someone who actually couldn’t care less what you thought and merely wanted to make you listen. Caleb couldn’t quite meet his eyes. Didn’t look too much, although he knew it was too late already. His eyes, calculating and smug, flick to Yasha. “You’ve come far from simple sellswords and pit fighters.” Caleb felt his spine straighten without his willing it to, and it seemed important to him to shift closer to Yasha, his friend, who did not need yet another person playing around in her head. The idea of Ikithon taking interest in her the way Obann had, the idea of Ikithon being this close to any of his family, made Caleb both want to throw up and want to let fire curl out of the tips of his fingers until it swallowed Ikithon altogether.

If only.

Ikithon’s eyes dropped back to Caleb’s face, and finally the cold politeness turned to some curdled, oily mix of disappointment, amusement, and satisfaction. “Especially you, Bren,” Ikithon said, and then Caleb blinked and he was gone. And Yasha was steadying his shoulder further and he felt the whole world whirling around his ears, a rushing in them like oceans or his heart or fire or something. The others talked, and they were moving out of the hall, and Caleb leaned far too hard into Beau and tried not to be sick.

He knew it. He knew it. He should never have come back here, they all should have stayed away except they couldn’t have, not if they wanted to help Yasha. But he wasn’t dead yet, which meant Ikithon needed them to go to the Xhorhasians with the beacon. Which meant he was invested in seeing that work or else couldn’t kill them without an uproar. But if he had spoken of the beacon, if he had admitted to finding it, that meant he was the one that wanted it to go back to Xhorhas. Which meant it was dangerous, and afterwards, then, he’d kill Caleb.

He’d send the other Vorstreckers and they’d kill him and maybe some of the Nein and Caleb wasn’t sure what all else, but it was a long game, but Ikithon knew. Ikithon knew he was alive and probably knew more about what Caleb had been doing than most of the people in that throne room and he was going to break everything apart, what if he told the others about what Caleb did, what if he got control of Caleb again and changed his memories, what if _Astrid_ was here, what if he sent her after Caleb, what if-

“Caleb!” Nott’s hand on his arm jolted him out of his thoughts and he shivered hard in his new coat. They were outside. They were going to where they were going to be staying. The others were looking at him and Nott pulled her hand off his arm, her big yellow eyes full of anger and fear and worry. “It’ll be okay, Caleb,” she said, firmly and quiet.

Caleb almost laughed. That hurt. He was still all broken up and his mouth tasted like blood and dust. The others looked so pitying. He shook his head and swallowed but the bad taste remained. “Ja, I know,” he said. It was a bad lie, hollow and without energy or breath.

Nott touched his arm again and then pulled her hand away and crossed her arms, as if she was trying to keep from hugging him. Caleb shivered again.

When they got to the inn where they were staying, it was Jester who asked where they could get clean, and then dragged them all into a bath area in the inn - nothing but the best for them, it would seem. There was something ironic about that, although Caleb had no idea why. It wasn’t until they were stripping out of their stinking clothes that Caleb realized how badly he still hurt, his ribs and muscles and raw scrapes from teeth. He saw Jester and Caduceus looking at him, and as they all sank into the bath, Caduceus reached out and touched his shoulder, murmured the words of a healing spell. It helped, but Caleb still felt his ribs with each breath, now. The water was too warm, everything felt too loud.

“Caleb,” Fjord said, carefully, “I know we’ve- had some conversations. About Trent Ikithon. But… I feel as though there’s a lot we still don’t know and I don’t like not knowing, now that he knows you’re here.”

Caleb could only shake his head, slumping further into the water. He couldn’t tell them more. Especially not now. Right now he still wanted to run.

He wondered if he was going to throw up in the bath.

“Alright,” Fjord conceded.

Abruptly, Yasha, who was sitting next to Caleb, sighed and reached over, settled her arm across Caleb’s shoulders. The steady comfort of her was grounding, and so was the way Caduceus put his hand on Caleb’s hand. Everyone else was quiet, but they were close, and Nott was staring at Caleb with a sad smile and hands folded into fists at her sides under the water.

“We will protect you,” Yasha said, simply, quiet. “I think I can- say that for everyone.” The tremor of uncertainty under her voice somehow helped Caleb settle further, lean into her with a sigh. There was something determined in him to help her too. To keep all of them as far away from hurt as he could manage. Somehow. It was easier to feel that when they were here and he was not alone.

“Yeah,” Beau agreed, gruff. She had let her hair down and was gingerly leaned back in the water, letting it soak into her hair, which fanned out around her like seaweed. She looked tired, and no wonder. “We’ve got your back.”

Caleb’s chest eased, just a little, not so much at her words but at the nearness of all of them. At the way they seemed both relaxed and wary, at the way they said they’d defend him but they all looked like they might fall apart. He wanted to take them and run as fast as he possibly could until they were all safe and far away from the itch in his arms and a voice like spilled oil. Instead, he settled into the warm, not-enough comfort of the water and his friends, pretended that the shivers were gone and that he couldn’t feel his ribs and that Ikithon’s words weren’t pinging hollowly around his thoughts.

He couldn’t _really_ forget. But his friends made it fade until it was an _almost._ Nearly safe, nearly quiet. Nearly okay again.


End file.
